For the Love of an Inquisitor
by Raven Jadewolfe
Summary: Just a place to dump my random fluffy romantic drabbles concerning the Inquisitor. Multiple pairings, some canon, some not. Can't guarantee any real updates though so I'll be marking this story as complete, but I may add to it at some point. Probably a different Inquisitor with every chapter. Possible language, lemons, and violence at some point, so consider yourself warned.
1. Vega Adaar

I OWN NOTHING Bioware or otherwise!

Also, unbeta'd so any spelling/grammar mistakes are mine alone.

Oh and little FYI Vega means star in latin

* * *

She has felt his whisky hued eyes tracking her every movement throughout the days and weeks they've spent traversing the lands, scrutinizing, strategizing, one of those S words that implied picking her apart piece by piece for his own amusement. Even now as he regales their growing troupe with elaborately spun tales by the fire and she seeks refuge in the shadows by her tent, her bronzed skin still tingles every time his gaze passes over her.

She vainly tries to ignore the flutter in her stomach each time he permits her to catch him openly staring, his impish golden eyes meeting and holding her own mismatched crimson and silver ones with a reticent glean.

"Cease this foolishness," she quietly castigates herself after yet another brief staring contest and grinds her pestle into the bowl of dried herbs cradled in her lap with more gusto than necessary, "You are not some insipid, lovelorn maid with a head full of straw. Forget about him-and this persistent stupidity-and remember your sworn duty."

Her little speech appears to have initially done its job, affording her a clear enough head to finish mixing a fresh batch of healing potions before it is time for her to take up the first watch.

Distantly she is aware of her comrades going through the steps of their nightly ritual, slowly but surely abandoning the ring of warmth the fire provides to huddle in their tents. She takes the Seeker slipping into her own meager shelter as her cue to retrieve her new battle staff and only momentarily pauses to tie her long white hair back with a leather thong before setting out for her first lap around the encampments perimeter.

She should have suspected something was amiss immediately when she is forced to shoo the blasted mabari-a flea ridden companion of the storyteller's-a gift from an old friend, he'd said, back to the camp twice inside of an hour.

"Vega, I've been looking for you," Varric jovially admits, the pale light of the autumn moon washing his stout form in pale silver as he emerges from the dark underbrush, "Keep this up and I'm going to start thinking you don't enjoy my company anymore."

Her heart stutters at the sound of her given name rolling off of his tongue, it's normally grating syllables transformed into something beautiful simply by the tone he always seems to use when he said it. Of course he only ever used her given name in private-like now- but even then she is still thankful the scoundrel recalls that she actually did have a moniker she used before the world began calling her "Inquisitor". At times, it felt like he was the only one to remember that fact.

"I've had a lot on my mind, as of late," she evasively hedges while uttering a silent prayer that the dim light is not enough to betray the sudden flush of her face to his keen sight, "I harbored no intentions of offending you nor did I wish to infer that I did not welcome your presence, Master Tethras. As for my apparent distance, you have made it no secret that you prefer more convivial tales over my most maudlin thoughts, so I merely sought to keep my own counsel and refrain from saddling you with my melancholy."

The dwarf mutely ponders this for a moment, then snorts and shakes his head, "I am officially calling bullshit on this one Vega. You have always been able to talk to me about anything and you damn well know that, no matter how depressing the subject matter. So what's the real problem beautiful? Find Sera naked in your tent again? Do you need me and Bianca to have a talk with her about bothering you?"

In spite of her darkened mood, she lets a low chuckle escape, "No, I do not believe Bianca's intervention will be necessary. She-Sera- and I had a discussion and I hope she finally understands that although I am truly flattered by her amorous intent, I cannot return the sentiment. From what I construed earlier, she has now set her eyes on Vivienne, if only to-and I quote-"Loosen her up and take the stick out of her arse."

"So not to be nosy or anything, but does that mean some other lucky sod has captured the eye of our stunningly gorgeous leader then?" he jests, but falls quiet when she simply shrinks into herself defensively and dips her head in a vain attempt to shield her face, "Ah shit Vega, I'm sorry. What happened? Did you and them-whoever they may be-have a row or something? Do I need to go introduce his or her ass to my boot?"

"He doesn't even know how often he haunts my thoughts," Vega timidly confesses, her always husky tone now rife with longing and self loathing, "But I refuse to contaminate our already tenuous friendship with uninvited romantic overtures. It is wholly stupid and selfish of me to desire more than platonic camaraderie when the world is falling apart around us."

Before he can speak, she blows out a heavy sigh and takes a step back from him, "I must apologize to you, for troubling you with my nonsense, when you have more important matters to tend to instead of being affronted by my battered ego."

His hand makes contact with the curve of her spine and its heat immediately begins seeping through the fabric of her robes to saturate her cool flesh. "Personally I think anyone who manages to catch your attention is one lucky son of a bitch and he would be an imbecile indeed to turn away your affections."

"That is easy for you to say," she retaliates with a touch of heat bleeding into her words, "Your true love is a crossbow. She can't turn you away if you said the wrong thing at the wrong time and would not protest if you suddenly decided to set her aside for something you felt was better suited to your tastes. No one could ever hope to compete with those qualities. I never-"

Abruptly she clamps her hand over her mouth in horror, realizing what she'd been about to say, and fear claws at her as he peers up into her mismatched eyes with an inscrutable expression etched onto his chiseled features. A minute slinks by, then two, and just as her feet thaw enough to flee, the hand not on her back darts out to her free one. Her vision blurs with salty tears and she makes a weak attempt to shake off his grasp, but his grip is steadfast.

"You never what?" the storyteller urges, his voice raw and yet tender all the same, "Finish what you were going to say Vega."

She tilts her face to the sky and furiously blinks her eyes to clear her sight. When she has regained a flimsy thread of control, she sighs again, this time in pained resignation, "Why do I have to finish it? I already know what the outcome will be, regardless of any grandiose speech I can construe. Can I not cling to the infinitesimal specks of dignity I still have or must I also be forced to sacrifice them as fodder for one of your tales?"

The fingers moving at her back fluidly evolve from desperate clinging to a tender caress, "I would never tell such a personal story about you Vega. There are still some things in this world even I hold sacred. Please, tell me what you were going to say."

She sniffs back her tears as best she is able, but still refuses to look him in the eye as she resumes talking, "I am a Qunari mage, that alone sealed my fate. I never stood a chance with anyone because I am an amalgamation of two of the most hated beings in all of Thedas. I knew it was folly to ever allow my heart to feel anything but duty, but I am weak. Now I care for a man who will never see me as anything but a comrade in arms or a source of story material. I mean less to him than a damned inanimate object whom he coos and fawns over like a lover. May I continue my watch now? I am done embarrassing myself."

"Vega," Varric murmurs after she forcefully yanks her hand from his grasp and begins stomping away into the dark. When she shows no sign of slowing her pace, he rushes to follow her, "Vega stop. We need to talk about this."

"Why do we need to talk about my humiliation?" she fires back over her shoulder, sorrow now smothered by defiant hurt, "I have no desire to bear witness to your inevitable rejection Serrah, no matter how much honey you drizzle on it. I'd rather you simply forget I have said anything at all, and pretend everything is amicable until it becomes the truth, if you please."

"No I do not please. Dammit!" the scoundrel growls and snatches her arm again, heedless of the eerie green glow the erupts from her, "Andraste's perky ass woman, would you just stop fighting with me for one minute and listen?"

The glow instantly dims and the kossith drops onto an exposed piece of rock with an annoyed huff, "Fine, speak your piece. You allowed me mine, so it is only fair I give you the same respect."

Varric's reply comes in the form of his lips crashing into her own.


	2. Kyrie Trevelyan

I STILL OWN NOTHING COPYRIGHTED!

Random FYI Kyrie means ruler in Greek

Still unbeta'd so blame me for any spelling/grammar mistakes

* * *

The great sword flashes a mercurial arc in the afternoon light, guided by Kyrie's steady hands as she moves through the steps of a simple kata to acquaint herself with the new blade. Just as she pirouettes into a defensive stance though, a pair of massive bronze-gray hands come out of nowhere and clamp down on her hips.

"You are far too tempting, prancing about half-dressed, while playing with your new toy."

In response, she aims a bright smile over her shoulder, bright blue eyes sparkling with mirth, "And what would you have me do instead Bull? Give up my mission and spend the rest of my days blissfully shackled to your bedpost, my only thoughts consumed by carnal fantasies where you are the only recipient?"

"Is that an option? Fine, but only if you do so clad in nothing but that golden hair of yours," the Qunari rumbles, drawing her back against his much larger frame to playfully nip at the juncture between her neck and collarbone, "You missed the Seeker's weekly bitch session and neglected to spare me the same fate, I believe that affords me some sort of retribution."

At his blatantly salacious threat, made all the more obvious by the bulge gently grinding into the small of her back, Kyrie's breath quickens and she can feel her smalls dampen in wanton response. Outwardly though, she plays his words off with a nonchalant shrug, "Don't let Vivienne hear you threaten me like that, she would leap at the chance to reap some vengeance of her own after the fiasco with her wardrobe last week."

"I would snap her in half before she could even begin to think of a spell to cast," he breath blazes across her already heated flesh, making her quiver with anticipation. He lets out a low chuckle at her reaction, then abruptly spins her around to capture an arm in one large fist while the other lowers to cradle the swell of her rump, "Or that the very reason you chose to name her specifically? Hoping to use your personal mercenary to rid yourself of the haughty enchantress?"

"Maybe I just enjoy it when you get possessive," she coyly reposts, allowing him to relieve her of her blade so she can caress his muscular chest with both hands. Not so innocently her pinkie grazes one exposed nipple and it is his turn to shudder at the contact, "A girl does like to feel wanted, after all."

"We have a few hours before dinner," he pauses to give in to the primal urge to plunder her smirking mouth. When he has made her thoroughly breathless and quaking in his arms, his mouth curls into a knowing grin, "Enough time to refresh your memory as to whom you belong, at least."

"Perhaps Cole would be-Agh!" her taunt is cut off by an involuntary squeal as he tosses her over one broad shoulder and sets off towards their private chambers at a run.


	3. Tyce Lavellan

I OWN NOTHING!

FYI Tyce means high spirited in French.

You got it, still unbeta'd so any spelling/grammar goofs are mine

* * *

"Of all the terrible places you would find for us to stay in," Dorian mutters balefully whilst the rest of their party spreads out to investigate the dilapidated stone building, "It simply had to be a manky old barn that absolutely reeks of moldy piss."

Tyce runs a hand over his brilliant saffron mohawk to brush the melting snow from it, then aims a mischievous smirk at his lover, "It could be worse ma sa'lath, we could still be wandering blindly through that Creators forsaken blizzard. Or worse. Perhaps we could have found ourselves in another cave teeming with giant spiders. And since everyone know how fond you are of those things..."

"Venhedis! Stop!" the mages handsome features briefly twist into a grimace before he heaves a sigh of grudging acceptance, "Fine. I agree we could have stumbled upon a much less...hospitable locale to seek refuge in. But I am not going to sleep on the frozen ground. We will be left exposed should some beasty decide it would like to spend the night in here as well."

"Of course," the Inquisitor scarcely contains an annoyance tinged smirk while he pulls the other man to him and places a feather light kiss on his lips, "I will personally see to it you have a cozy little space up in the loft. Is that amendable?"

Assuaged by his elvhen lover's spontaneous display of affection, Dorian bobs his head in acquiescence after stealing another kiss, then saunters off to assist Blackwall with building a nice fire to make dinner on while Tyce completes his task.

Once alone in the upper level of the structure, the exhausted Dalish rogue sinks to the floor to give his sore body a moment of respite. Ignoring the icy draft, his thoughts wander to the Tevinter defector. He loved the man, he truly did, but the mage's incessant demands for creature comforts wherever they travelled to was beginning to cost Tyce precious time and energy he was starting to fear he did not have to give. At this rate, Dorian's exorbitant lifestyle might kill him before the Venatori have another chance to.

His senses dulled by his thoughts and excessive weariness, he fails to hear Dorian's approach until his lover's warm hand comes to rest on the back of his chilled neck. "Tyce, what is the matter? Are you injured?"

"It is nothing to concern yourself with ma sa'lath," dark eyes slowly open and the beleaguered Inquisitor forces his trademark cocky smirk to make an appearance, "Just taking a short break before I get to work. I'll have your bower prepared before you are ready to retire for the night, do not worry."

The mage gives him a chaste kiss, then shakes his head, "I can do that love. You are beyond tired-don't try to tell me you are not-and the Grey Warden was insistent that he does not require my aid. And before you ask, Cole is already asleep in one of the stalls, so you need not fret for him."

"It is not-" Tyce begins but is silence by a long finger on his lips.

"Let me take care of you for once. After all that you have done for me, still do for me, it is the least I can do."

Surprised, though happily so, the elf surrenders himself to his lover's tender command.


	4. Riddick Cadash

Sorry for the long delay, life ran my ass over. Several times. Didn't have access to the interwebs aside from my phone and I wasn't going to attempt typing out chapters on it. Again.

As per usual, this is unbeta'd so any grammar/spelling mistakes are mine alone.

Still own nothing.

Riddick means smooth field in Irish Gaelic, but I chose it for other reasons lol

* * *

Riddick smirks at the cards in his hand while the Seeker tears through the camp like an angry badger. A beautiful, shrieking badger.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" the rogue cannot help but chuckle when Cassandra responds to the inquiry with a string of colorful curses that would make a pirate blush.

"Some idiot stuffed my armor full of flowers," she finally seethes after taking a deep breath to calm herself.

Varric, forever in pursuit of a thrilling tale, swivels on his bedroll to peer up at the still steaming Nevarran, "What kind of flowers were they Princess? Maybe you've found yourself a paramour who is trying to gauge how amendable you would be to being swept off your feet."

"Like our high and mighty Seeker has time for romance when she's so busy trying to save the world single-handedly. I'm willing to put money down that the gesture was probably intended to be more like 'Your armor smells worse than a brontos ass and you refuse to let anyone clean it so here are some smelly weeds to make you less odorous' rather than 'I want to break a bed with you'," his fellow dwarf deadpans, and everyone but the dark haired warrior woman bursts into laughter.

"I'm not even sure she understands how the bed would get broken in the first place," Bull adds, his low rumbling chuckle and waggling eyebrows making the woman turn scarlet.

Without a word, Cassandra and her flaming cheeks spin around and disappear into her tent, leaving the rest to laugh and spin ever more unlikely scenarios over the identity of her mysterious would be suitor.

Two days later, her armor still carrying the scent of gardenias, Cassandra is once more on a furious rampage, this time over a set of delicately hammered golden hoop earrings she found lashed to her favorite boot dagger with a piece of deep blue silk ribbon.

She comes crashing into the meeting room where the Inquisitor is lazily pouring over maps with Cullen, Varric, and Blackwall while they discuss where to shift their troops to before winter sets in earnestly.

"Blast and damnation!"

"Problem Seeker?" the former Templar inquires, more than a little annoyed at the dramatic interruption.

"What the hell is this?" she nearly screeches, holding out the jewelry and strip of cloth, "And why was it tied to one of my knives?"

"They appear to be a pair of earrings, made of Antivan gold. Exquisite quality too, by the looks of the workmanship," the Grey Warden unhelpfully offers with a shrug, earning himself a thunderous scowl, "You asked. Perhaps if you rephrased the question, I would be more able to assist you."

Varric snorts out a quiet chuckle as he presses passed Blackwall, then begins to inspect the items while his fellow dwarf waves a dismissive hand, "Maybe you should wear them Seeker. If nothing else than to remind people you're not really a man under all of that metal, bluster, and angst. I mean it's worked wonders for Varric, so I don't see where it wouldn't help you as well."

At his words, Cassandra lets out a howl of frustration before she snatches the gifts back from the storyteller and retreats, hurtling yet another volley of swear words over her shoulder as she goes.

"I sure as hell hope whoever is baiting that woman isn't going to get us all killed before she catches them," Riddick murmurs as the shouting fades and the other men solemnly nod in agreement.

A week later, the Inquisitor is taking a rare moment for himself, barricading himself in his rooms along with several new books demanding to be read. As he sets down his mug of warm spiced cider, he spots an unfamiliar tome resting on top of the stack. He picks it up to read the title and discovers a familiar strip of azure silk resting between its pages. Deft fingers slide the ribbon out, bringing with it a slip of parchment that falls to the rug. With trembling fingers he retrieves the paper and gingerly opens it. It bears only two sentences, but it is enough to set his blood pounding in his ears.

_-Bring the book and a bottle of wine to my rooms after the midnight bell has sounded. This is your one chance, don't be late. ~C_

Riddick grins to himself, tucking the note back into the book before setting out in search of an appropriate vintage. Sometimes it is good to be beaten at your own game.


	5. Forza Lavellan

Yep, another chapter. I have the time and ability to do it, so I did :-)

Still own nothing.

And yes, unbeta'd, so blame me for any goofs.

Name FYI time. Forza means force in latin. Yeah, it's a really bad hint that Forza specializes in force magic. You gotta admit it's a cool name for a mage though.

Oh, and I'm putting an A/N at the bottom.

* * *

"What a mess," Forza mutters to herself, slumping against the door of her chambers while she swipes her dirty bangs away from her eyes, "Not a single piece of worthwhile information gained either. All of that time wasted...dammit."

She stews a few moments longer before the weight of her sodden, filthy battle robes finally spurns her into action. A pale gold bath robe appears in her peripheral-the same shade as her eyes-as she sheds the layers of enchanted cloth. With a grateful smile she accepts the heavy silk garment and draws it on with a relieved sigh.

"Difficult trip then, my love?" Cullen queries after helping to tug her mass of wild chestnut curls free of the fabric, then pulls her in for a warm kiss.

She hums an affirmation into his lips, eager to forget their latest setback, but pulls back when she feels him frown. "What's wrong?"

"How bad was it?" he prods in return, his sharp eyes now taking in her dishevelled appearance, "You're barely healed from that wyvern attack. I-"

"You know how much fun ambushes are," the mage quips with a forced lightness, a hand coming to rest over his thrumming heart, "Blackwall's leg was run through near the end of the battle so I had Sera and Solas take care of things while I healed him. Once he was on his feet and the minions were disposed of, we went after the information broker, but the little rat had already skipped out."

"So the intel on the Elder One was bogus," the former Templar blows out a sigh when she nods and gently draws her back into his arms, "Nevermind that, for now. We will deal with it tomorrow, after you've had a chance to rest. And in the spirit of that sentiment, why don't you take a hot bath to shake off the last of the chill whilst I scare you up some dinner?"

Forza opens her mouth to protest, but her stomach calls out its agreement, and instead she gives him a nod, "That sounds perfect."

* * *

Okay, dreading Author's Note time.

I just kind of want to toss this out there, so yeah.

If any of these characters catch your eye and you find yourself itching to explore their stories for yourself, feel free to. The only thing I ask in return is for you to send me a message and a link to the story so I- and anyone else who might be interested-can read it too.

K that's all.

Hugs and Love,

~Raven


	6. Krysis Cadash

Um, Happy Halloween? Time to curse strangers for sugaring your kids up and sending them home with you!

I don't own any coyrighted materiel. Duh.

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my fault.

No name meaning this time. I think it speaks for itself.

* * *

The lively music floats through the chilled spring air, bringing with it waves of intelligible banter that is occasionally punctuated with chiming laughter. Out on the wall that surrounds the Skyhold, the Inquisitor stands alone in the dark, her mind leagues away from the festivities underway in the Keep. It's not like she has ever understood Andrastian holidays anyway. The music changes and so does the wind, its chilled fingers lapping at her exposed skin.

The tune haltingly drifts, bringing with it a fog of melancholy, and her thoughts bloom with solemnity.

She never wanted this life. The carta, the Inquisition, this sodding war. All it felt like a byproduct of her weak will. Her life a maelstrom of chaos and destruction because she's never had the strength to stand up to the whims of a world wrought with cruelty. Even now, despite making some small measure of progress with the others, she is all too aware that she is barely tolerated by most of them. Respect is something almost laughably nonexistent due to her blunders and the sheer terror that accompanies every decision forced upon her. Especially those decisions where she knows people are going to die no matter what route she chooses.

Her companions often will mutter and whine amongst themselves, second guessing each command, thinking she cannot hear them...or maybe they simply did not care if she hears them put a voice to their lack of confidence. Raking her over the proverbial coals every time she made a choice they didn't agree with whether they had a better plan to use or not seems to be a widespread hobby nowadays. She is trying to save a world that despises and fears her and all they want to complain about is how she refuses to pander to idiots and their twisted whims.

Insubordinate bastards.

Suddenly a hand slips into her own marked one, warm and reassuring. There is only one person in all Thedas who is unafraid to touch the scarred limb.

"Stop doubting yourself Kry," Sera murmurs, snuggling into the petite rogue, "It's a party, you should be enjoying it instead of out here freezing and beating yourself up."

"How do you know that's what I'm doing?" the dwarf can't help but smile at the taller female as the elf tries to worm herself into a comfortable position under her lovers cloak, "Maybe I'm out here contemplating how much longer Cassandra is going to tolerate Bull's never ending stream of innuendos before she either guts him or jumps on him and gives him the ride of his life."

"You always get this pinched look around your eyes when you're engaging in self flagellation. And while it does make you look all dark, mysterious, and sexy, I'd rather see you smile. Come on, do a little one. For me," Sera gently teases, her plump lips curving upwards in amusement when Krysis huffs in irritation. Her smile grows further as the dwarf slides an arm around her with a minute smirk and pulls the archer close. "Look at it this way my heart. All of us came home alive today and are currently getting completely smashed, singing songs and doing stupid shit they will regret come morning."

"If they even bother to wind down before then," Krysis agrees, albeit a tad grudgingly.

"My point is we might not be so lucky come tomorrow, so count this day as a win," her gaze finds the shorter woman's own violet orbs, then adds, "Besides, it does no good to punish yourself over things you can't change. What's done is done. You need to look towards your future and the mistakes you will make then, not worry yourself to death over the crap that has already transpired."

Krysis bites back a flare of morose anger and forces herself to relax into the elvhen woman's warmth, "Is is so wrong to want more? To want to right the wrongs I've committed, fix the mistakes I've made just so I can finally walk away and live my life that way I want? Is is stupid to dream of more than this dung covered hand I've been dealt? The only good thing that has ever happened to me is you. And the world had to go to batshit crazy for me to get that much. Everything I've done, I've been alone and despised. I have fought and killed and done everything that was asked of me because I used to believe that if I earned my happiness..."

Sera softly sighs and bows her head to kiss her lover, then cups one cold cheek, "But the difference now is you don't have to fight alone anymore. Not while I draw breath. I can't promise you a paradise or swear that you will never have to draw a blade, but I vow on the Maker, the Creators, whatever you'd like, that I will be with you every single day for the rest of my life. That has to count for something, right?"

"It's the reason I haven't given up," the dwarf confesses and buries her head in the archers neck.


	7. Shiri Adaar

Nothing has changed. I still own nothing. Dammit.

Unbeta'd.

Shiri means my song in Hebrew.

* * *

She pulls the cloak tighter as she hustles down the dimly lit corridor, but the wriggling bundle she is currently clasping to her chest is determined to see where they are going. Luckily no one is around to observe-or laugh at- the qunari woman quietly arguing with the black ball of fur.

Two turns and a handful of muffled yaps later, she and her passenger stand before the door leading to Blackwall's private quarters.

"Here goes nothing," she mutters in a quaking voice then, before she can give herself a chance to flee, gives the door three knocks in rapid succession.

In the handful of seconds it takes for the Grey Warden to answer the summons, she changes her mind about her intended course of action half a dozen times. Then the latch squeaks, the door swings wide, and the source of all her confusion and worry is staring up at her with dark eyes brimming with concern.

"Shiri? Is something wrong?"

As her courage begins to fail her, she hastily thrusts the gangly pup into the man's arms, "Happy name day."

Her feet are flying over the stone tiles as soon as his hands instinctively grasp the mabari, so she is oblivious to the soft, thoughtful smile the other warrior aims at her back.

Once safely ensconced in her own chambers however, the last of the qunari's tenuous control shatters.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she intermittently berates herself between long ribbons of curses in various languages while she frantically paces from the blazing hearth, to her bed, and back.

A gentle rap at her door puts and abrupt end to her downward spiral of self loathing. A swift glance at the dwarven made clock on the mantle informs her of the late hour and all thoughts of her disastrous attempt at gift giving are forgotten as her mind shifts in preparation for battle.

"What's happened now?" she's asking even as she swings open the door with one hand and reaches for her greatsword with the other, but the rest of her words die in her throat as she finds Blackwall-and the pup-standing before her.

"May we come in?" he prompts when she simply stands there, breath coming in quick, shallow huffs.

Thankfully she manages to stop herself from tripping over her own feet as she steps to the side, permitting them entrance, then closes the door. It's not as if he has not spent the night in her rooms before, but this time the air feels charged with anxiety and fear.

"Is there a problem?" part of her is appalled at how breathless her voice sounds and she clears her throat before adding, "Are mabari's not an appropriate gift for one's name day?"

The man shakes his head, a smile gracing his lips while his gaze drifts from the bouncing hound sniffing everything in the room to the rattled kossith, "He is perfect actually. I must confess though that I wonder how you knew this particular mabari would bond with me, of all people, but that is not my sole reason for coming. You did not give me a chance to properly express my gratitude over such a kingly gift."

"No thanks are necessary," she waves a hand dismissively now that she knows he does not hate the gift outright, "As for the bonding. I found this one sleeping with your gambeson. When I asked the kennelmaster about this behavior, I was informed that the pup was imprinting on whomever the garment belonged to. He was not old enough to be removed from his mother yet though, so he could not be presented to you yet. It was happenstance that I learned your name day was very close to the time he would be fully weaned and I could not think of a more appropriate gift, after you told me of your fondess for dogs and the time you often spend with the hounds that reside here."

The Grey Warden accepts the explanation with a bob of the head, though something in his dark gaze makes her heart stutter, "I do have a soft spot for them."

"Does that mean you like him?" she internally winces at the nervous pitching creeping back into her tone, "I didn't make a complete arse out of myself?"

With a laugh he wraps his arms around her waist, the puzzle solved at long last, "Is this what has been troubling you my love? That I might not like your gift?"

Her hands unconsciously wind around his neck even as she mumbles shamed affimative.

"Then fear no longer," he commands before stretching upward to capture her lips in a long kiss, "He is the second greatest gift you have ever blessed me with. I will cherish him for the rest of my days."

Cheeks flushing at his words, her gold eyes dart to the pup before returning to his, "If he is the second greatest gift, what was the first? I've never given you anything but weapons or armor before now, just like I've done for everyone else, so they do not count."

He steals her breath with another, more heated kiss before answering.

"The greatest gift you have ever given me was your heart."


End file.
